Way of the Warrior
by Rejar
Summary: There aren't many people who would deliberately oppose Sanada Genichirou but to his immense misfortune there is one, and that one is enough to last him a lifetime. Flashfic.
1. The Exception to the Rule

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis _in any way or shape. Neither do I own the picture. Let's rumble!  
**

* * *

"Minamoto."

There aren't many people who would deliberately oppose Sanada Genichirou; Emperor of the tennis courts, stoic and elitist perfectionist to the core—a man that values the traditional concepts of honor and resolve more than the whimsical, teenage needs of his age-matched classmates.

Yet, there are always exceptions to the rule.

He looms his full six feet over the desk in question. "Minamoto Masako."

At the mention of her name said girl does not so much as move an _inch_.

Renji and Seiichi, their occasional leeway he could understand. The three of them have always been close and between friends, joking and jesting is common. The jumpy behavior of the regulars from Rikkaidai's famous Tennis Club that he is a proud vice-captain of he could come to accept and understand as well—while they aren't as close, he has come to form firm ties with the boys even if he has to keep a tight leash on some. He needn't their bad behavior to reflect back negatively on him nor Yukimura.

He has learned to respect his elders and tries to be a model student, never failing in his duty to study well and he tries to keep his grades as best as he strives for. So long as neither his teacher nor fellow students are actively trying to hinder his progress he maintains a polite and obliging relationship to most while keeping his distance to the rascals slacking off. Stay in wrong company for too long and you will be dragged down before you know it.

Again, there are always exceptions to the rule. Minamoto Masako is his.

Feeling his patience run thin, he switches to the loud voice normally reserved for training purposes. He slams his fist into the desk that all heads turn. "Minamoto Masako, wake up this instant or there will be consequences to face!"

She startles from her sleep, "Present!", dark eyes blinking rapidly against the harsh light before she rubs her face awake. Black hair sticking out to all sides, her gaze eventually settles on him.

And the disappointed pout comes to her lips almost instantly. "Wha—it's just you, Sanada."

There aren't many people who would deliberately oppose him but to his immense misfortune there is one, and that one is enough to last him a lifetime.

* * *

**A/N:**

**This plot bunny came to me and won't leave me alone. Sanada has such a rich inner voice that I couldn't resist. ******I have the _very rough_ outlines already planned out. **This will be a light-hearted tale, no longer than 500 words a chapter, and****—I'm sorry, Sanada—updated completely based on my whims and when the muse hits me over the head particularly hard.  
**

**Reviews help to speed this process up most of the times, though. ;) Tell me whether you liked it or not! Other than that, we'll see each other again in the next chapter!**


	2. Patience

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

When morning classes are over and it's time to change rooms their homeroom teacher usually makes his way over to him, drawing his attention with the barest rap of his knuckles against the desk. "Sanada-kun," he starts, eyes shifting expectantly to the side. "Could you please make sure...?"

All Sanada does is shove the rest of his books into his bag. "Of course." Then he travels the short distance to Minamoto's desk again.

Why, one might ask, does he brake his pace for the lazy bum when he clearly tries to draw a line between him and the sluggish student body? There are many reasons, one of them being that it is a teacher's request and he has been taught to respect an elder's wishes. Even if he knows that Noriyama-sensei makes sure to place the two of them in the same class with every new school year simply for his and every other teacher's convenience.

Sanada is the only one that manages to wake the dozing girl up without having to resort to some form of violence.

Teachers aren't allowed to get rough on the students and neither is it permitted for students to do so under their guidance. The school's rules are adamant in both cases. It doesn't leave a lot of room left for debating, and, for better or for worse, he is stuck as the babysitter.

"Minamoto," he says and she stirs, curling every vertebrae in her back as she gets up before yawning into his face. He would not reprimand her. It's a waste of energy he has come to associate with her. "Pack your stuff. Sensei wants to lock the door."

Minamoto squints her dark gray eyes at him. "Classical Literature already over?"

"You slept through the better part of it."

"What a bummer." She stretches again and somewhere a bone pops loudly back in place. Abruptly she stands, only half a feet smaller than him now. "Shall we then?"

He looks her over. "Are you not going to take anything with you?"

Minamoto blinks. "It's just Calligraphy. I don't need my pencil case."

"It's just—" Sanada gulps down the rising ball of indignation. "We have been practicing the art of traditional ink mixing for the past two weeks now. You are supposed to _at least_ bring your own inkstick."

"Oh." Her mouth opens in a perfect circle. "Something about bonding with your tool, I think I remember..." It's her turn to muster him before settling on meeting his gaze head-on. "It's in my bag. Which I forgot at home," she answers candidly.

Then, "Got a spare?"

The ball of indignation burns alight with restrained flames of fury suddenly licking and spreading all over its surface. Sanada tries his best not to show his inner fight outwardly. "_Tarundoru...!_"

During Calligraphy classes Sanada decides to take a leaf out of Seiichi's book and draws a long, never-ending line of a single _kanji_ on his sheet of paper: _patience_.


	3. Rectification

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

Occasionally he wonders if she—or perhaps their teachers—chooses her morning classes deliberately to be the same as his. Because by the time fourth period is over and gives way to lunch break, Sanada's watchful presence is no longer needed. Minamoto perks up the closer the clock ticks to twelve and is usually among the first to stand in queue for food.

And because she has left all her things at home, she is standing there with _his_ wallet in hand. Seiichi chuckles behind him. "I sometimes wonder if she's just another trickster we have simply overlooked."

"Not at all. This is her true self—is what you wanted to say," Renji offers, eyes close as always but lips twitching upward with something that is_ most definitely_ amusement.

At his expense.

Sanada nods and closes his own eyes. He feels more exhausted than usual.

"You look tired. Ever think of taking a nap? Does wonders to your body, I hear." His eyes snap open to a familiar wallet dangling in front of his nose and a wide, teeth-flashing grin.

Again Seiichi has difficulties holding back his laughter. For someone acting the role model Captain he could be very lax. "I... appreciate the concern," Sanada manages, snatching his wallet from her fingers. She is one to talk, sleeping constantly—

Minamoto claps him on the arm twice, jocular grin turning into a sincere smile. "Thanks. You saved my life today."

And if there ever is another chance to make the girl understand and _grow_ out of her slacking behavior, to better her habits and improve on her own self, it has presented itself to him now. Else he'd have another Calligraphy disaster at hand in the coming future.

A one-sided one, because Minamoto is not the one on the verge of throttling someone. Unlike him in that situation.

"Try to better yourself, Minamoto. I won't be there forever." Sanada has the urge to correct his cap but he is only wearing it during tennis practice. It feels like second nature to reprimand people only with his cap on because he usually does so only during training. Another prime example of the exception to the rule.

But the girl is already halfway across the cafeteria, waving her goodbyes. "Yes, yes and I'll repay you tomorrow or some other day."

He takes a very deep breath.

"I'm no longer sure if she does it on purpose or not—is what you wanted to say," Renji hums. Sanada shoots him a silencing glare.


	4. The Reason

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

"Why do you keep on hanging around that girl?"

He remembers the first time he's been asked that question as if it were yesterday. Marui, the Tennis Club's self-proclaimed genius and acrobat, has been the one to ask it. With a nosy smile and a playful nudge to Sanada's ribs, because they were first-years at the time and Marui didn't know any better, he's also added a "Do you like her?" to his previous question.

Suffice it to say that it's the first time his telltale _tarundoru_ has been unleashed during tennis practice.

There is certainly no amount of _liking_ involved in their acquaintanceship. With his mind wholly preoccupied with tennis and upcoming tournaments, he has no time for idle fantasies concerning love nor does he wish to engage in such frivolous behavior.

Especially not with a girl like Minamoto Masako.

Sanada has known her for most of his life as they've been through primary school together before entering Rikkaidai as middleschoolers. She was not always like this. There was a time where her name ranked among the first of their year and she would always be punctual, sometimes much earlier than even the teachers, always in an attempt to become the first at _anything _she's set her mind on.

True, all of this has only applied to the duration of primary school but he finds it impossible to think that she could have forgotten and foregone her past drive entirely.

Watching her sleeping form slip further and further down the slope of a desultory lifestyle he is soon convinced otherwise. Children should be taught properly to be able to withstand teenage whims as to avoid this fate.

He has his personal goals set before him. It's what keeps him going forward. Not the temporary caprice of staying up late at night playing games or watching television.

That is why he does not, in no way or shape, _like_ her. He keeps close to her for an entirely different yet close reason.

The answer lies hidden away in after-school activities; when he wraps up both his Committee meetings and afternoon tennis practice. It's when he comes home with the late sun setting behind him on the horizon, and slips out of his shoes to cross the living areas and enter his family's dōjō, that he finds her presence still lingering inside, still swinging her blade through the empty air with the silent cutting of years of practice when even the last of their most diligent students has long since left.

Minamoto Masako is a lazy, irresponsible and audacious girl that he would not associate with under any given circumstances. But here her ambition knows no bounds and he is reminded of the girl in his memory, the one always striving to be the first. In moments like these he forgets her wrongdoings and watches her with a respect reserved for very few; mesmerized by the dance of her blade.

She is by far the best _kendōka_ he's ever met.

* * *

**A/N:**

**The people who practice kendo are called _kendōka. _And now the title ot this fic suddenly makes more sense! **

**Don't be shy and leave a review! Sanada's hands are full with handling Minamoto, he won't bite._  
_**


	5. Endless Loop

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

Daily routine is the Alpha and Omega to Sanada.

He gets up as early as the first ray of light hits his room to start with a calming session of _Zazen_. Meditation helps him stay focused and concentrated throughout the day by erasing whatever leftover tensions he has carried into his sleep the night before.

Eventual breakfast with his family wraps the early morning routine up before he heads out for school.

The Tennis Club's regulars slowly trickle in one by one to morning practice with varying degrees of enthusiasm carved into their faces. The ones that are usually the latest are either Akaya or Niou.

It's quick training, only a brief sort of warm-up to help the regulars prepare for afternoon practice: they go through coordinated drills, maybe play a couple of easy, lighthearted matches. Both he and Seiichi agreed that exhausting them too much early on isn't of benefit to anyone.

Ever the diligent student Sanada then does his voluntary rounds within school grounds for the Disciplinary Committee he is also part of. Sometimes he finds the occasional suspicious students lingering about, once even a small group of boys that have tried out smoking behind the gym.

He manages to report any incidents before classes start and is rarely late.

And once classes do actually start...

"Uhm, Sanada-kun," their tiny English teacher calls out, righting the large glasses on her nose. She raises a stack of papers. "We are going to write a test now. Could you please wake up Minamoto-chan?"

Once classes start he is back to his babysitting job by the time he enters the classroom. Maybe it's just a recurring dream of his that she can swing the sword as if she were born with it.

Sanada turns to his right, towards the dozing neighbor of his. "Minamoto." Nothing. "Minamoto Masako." All he gets is some sort of disturbed snort that only manages to make a forlorn strand of black hair slip to the side.

Without morning meditation he would probably explode from the audacity. Instead, he rams his fist into her table. "Minamoto, you're slacking off again!"

Her head shoots up. "The square root of Pi is takoyaki!" She doesn't even register the eyes of the rest of the class on her as she blinks perplexed at the female teacher standing in front of the blackboard, reality catching up with every cogwheel he hears spinning back into motion inside her head. "Wait, this is English, isn't it?"

Why, indeed, _it is_.

And all the respect she's earned plummets into the abyss as they settle back into their daily life routine and Sanada thinks about new ways to return the girl on the path of righteousness.


	6. A Peek into the Past, I

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

Sanada Genichirou is four years old when he picks up two very different kinds of sports: kendo, because it's a family tradition; and tennis, because he is interested in it.

Within the course of six months he's grown into an ardent and headstrong individual in both activties and gets paired up with the older kids more often than not. Sanada is proud of his abilities.

He earns two very different kinds of friends along the way, too.

One of them is called Yukimura Seiichi; a soft-looking, wiry, fair-skinned boy he's immediately mistaken for a girl. And since his mother taught him to treat girls nicer than boys, Sanada lets the indigo-haired boy sit in the bus while he stands even though he's exhausted, and since Yukimura is a fairly new member of the Tennis Club, he tries to keep his play as easy for his opponent as possible.

Yukimura Seiichi completely destroys him in their very first match. And Sanada, unable to do something about it, because how is he supposed to react to a girl winning?, escapes into the changing rooms after training and fumes silently.

With a horrified expression he notices Yukimura enter the same changing rooms shortly after him. And when the girl—boy!—takes off his shirt, Sanada's jaw drops. Yukimura smiles.

That's how they become friends in rivalry.

Soon after this meeting, Sanada meets his second childhood friend. Minamoto Masako is all that Yukimura isn't.

"I want a bigger opponent."

Four-year-old Sanada whips his head around at the sound of the childish voice. Training between adults and children is divided for one reason: discipline. Nobody is to complain about a lack of opponent in a dōjō, least of all while directly standing in front of the master: his grandfather.

She is tiny compared to him, with chubby cheeks and thin eyebrows. Her eyes spark with a very livid determination. Grandfather takes note of that as well. "Why?" he asks.

"Because I'm better than them." She points at the boys training their swings, which includes Sanada as well. He doesn't take lightly to that. She's too greedy.

"Truly," Grandfather says, "but they have one thing that you don't." Sanada returns to his swings, proud at the way his grandfather handles the insolent girl. He knows what comes next. "_Patience_."

Minamoto groans as she is sent to meditate in a corner. Grandfather makes his rounds and stops next to Sanada. "She has the spirit of a great warrior. Wild maybe, but tameable. Watch yourself, young boy, or one day she will overtake you."

Sanada doubles his efforts from then on. He can't let a girl beat him. He's almost been through that with Yukimura.


	7. Complimentary Friends

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

For good or for ill, Sanada has had to grow up with his closest friends since a young age. When he and Yukimura eventually meet Yanagi Renji, their trio seems to round up perfectly.

It's because of their long association The Emperor is so forgiving towards them. They can make fun of him and, as long as it stays in good will, he will brave it like a man should. He owes them that much for all the years they've spent together. Sanada Genichirou respects his closest friends on the same level as he does his family.

Sadly, he can't take control over how_ they_ behave around each other.

"Yuki-chi." Sanada is willing to strangle her already. That is not how one should adress the Child of God! "There's a girl in my class that wants you to have this."

Yukimura takes the small, wrapped box from Minamoto's outstretched hand. "Tell her thanks from me, would you, Masa-chan?"

Minamoto nods and manages to make the gesture look as bored as she is of the classes she constantly sleeps in.

Sanada has also never quite liked the way Yukimura picks up on the naming convention and calls her _Masa-chan_ out of all things. It implies a familiarity those two should never have, even if they, technically, grew up together, too. Minamoto is too lazy to deserve that.

Long bangs fall into her eyes. She grabs the black hair between her fingers and inspects it. "How about it, Yana-jiji*? You always cut my hair best. As in free of charge."

Yanagi inclines his head. "We can cut it right after tennis training today." She smiles but Sanada is not about to let her off this easily.

"You realize he's the same age as you, Minamoto," Sanada says. "You can't call him 'old man' like that."

"Well," she drawls out, mustering the Data master from head to toe, "but he's always been so tall and stern. Like your old man."

"Are you insulting my grandfather now?"

"Of course not. I'm still _patiently_ waiting for my time to strike him down."

All the discipline in the world hasn't managed to tame this girl. It seems that the task has been passed down onto him now. That old man should have warned him—

Now he's calling him old man himself.

"Isn't Genichirou the same, though? Very stern and stoic," Seiichi offers, wholly ignoring Sanada's glare.

"He forbade me to wrangle his name." She pouts. It doesn't reach her eyes.

Yukimura's eyes flicker with mischief. "That wouldn't hinder_ you_, Masa-chan."

"Seiichi..."

"Of course not." There's a pause. "Gen-chan-rôshi*. Because he always says how much more mature he is."

Yanagi coughs to hide his amusement. Yukimura turns away from the group, trembling with laughter while Sanada wishes he's never met the indigo-haired boy. Or the girl for that matter.

Mostly the girl.

* * *

**A/N:**

_*****jiji_** is the _rude_ way of calling an elderly male person, well, 'old'. It should only be used between family members or someone you're close to because otherwise it's offending. You've heard it in anime every once in a while, when someone calls their father 'old man'.**

_*****rôshi_ **is a _honorific title_ used for a highly venerated senior teacher in _Zen Buddhism_. And since Sanada has his daily round of Zen meditation... **_-chan_** is of course a cute suffix. It kind of breaks the whole honorable name.**


	8. Common Sight

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

**To **FlowerGirl:** I'm glad the humor didn't miss its target. ;)**

* * *

Returning home after a thriving tennis practice with his team is the most rejuvenating. Sanada feels a bloating pride swell inside his chest whenever he notes how well hard work pays off for them. Not that he is ever going to openly confess it.

His mother peeks her head out from the dining room with a warm smile. "Welcome home."

He angles his head in a curt bow, "I'm home," when he catches sight of something most common. "How long are they at it this time?" he asks his mother. He's too tired to feel bothered by the visitor.

She follows his gaze. "For the past three hours, I believe. Your grandfather is preparing for another game with Tezuka-san this weekend. You know how he doesn't like to lose to him."

Sanada knows. What he doesn't know is how Minamoto manages to sit still for three hours and not fall asleep the way she does at school.

She's playing shōgi with his grandfather.

Again.

The match proceeds silently bar the faint _click_ of wooden pieces moving across the board. Grandfather draws a hand through the white stubble on his chin, brows furrowed in thought. Minamoto waits patiently on him, legs folded beneath her upper body in a perfectly executed _seiza_* tradition.

"Is Masako-chan going to eat with us tonight?" Mother asks.

It's not like he has a choice in the matter. In school he is forced to look after her. Inside the dōjō they are opponents on par with one another.

But in the living room with his mother present? That's when they're considered best friends ever since they're toddling four-year-olds, because the one time he's tried to explain his mother why Minamoto's grades have dropped ("She's lazy and doesn't even bother to remember the teacher's name!"), she threatened to whack him with his own practice sword if he did not give the girl extra lessons after school.

He doesn't want to give Minamoto extra lessons _ever again_. Horrors linger in those far-away memories that are better left unspoken.

Instead of tempting fate, Sanada chooses to shrug. "I guess so."

Then he heads over to the bathroom for a shower. Maybe she'll be gone by the time he's done because the rejuvenating pride inside his chest is quickly draining. And he's sure it's because of her weird black-and-white nature and the fact that, no matter what he does, he simply can't escape her. In school it's because of the teachers. Inside the dōjō because of her skill. In his home because of his family.

And inside him there is a part that is just so used to her presence, he doesn't even mind it sometimes.

* * *

_*****seiza_** is a kneeling sitting position, in which you tuck your legs beneath your body to sit. This can get tiring if you're not used to it, as your legs can fall asleep easily. For a very formal execution your head is raised and your back completely straight. If you've ever been to a tea ceremony, you'll have seen how it looks._  
_**


	9. The Break

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

Sanada likes his routine. Everything is as it should be, from when he wakes and meditates, to what he eats for breakfast, to eventual morning practice with his tennis team. There are only rare breaks in it, such as when his parents went away for a week-long vacation once. It had only meant a different means of preparing and eating breakfast.

It's because he is so used to the routine he immediately notices something off this morning when he enters the classroom.

He looks at their English teacher, easily looming over her small frame even if he tries not to. "Where's Minamoto?"

"Well..." One by one the students trickle in, but the older woman just corrects her glasses and gulps nervously. "I guess she's with the principal right now. But don't worry," she quickly adds when his eyebrows shoot up, "she'll be back any moment!"

"Why is she—" A thousand ideas spring to mind as to why she would be at the principal's offices, most concerning her amount of slacking off. But just the idea of her getting expelled from school because of that makes something inside his chest constrict painfully... "Never mind," he finishes and returns to his seat.

He'll ask her himself. It's best not to spread unnecessary rumors. Besides, she never was bad enough to fear expulsion. Worse than him, but not much worse than the average student. Just more sleepy.

Now he's defending her. Wonderful. It's all because she's part of his routine, and this routine has now been interrupted.

He wants his routine back, that's all there is to it.

Still, he can't keep his eyes from glancing over to the empty seat to his right. Sanada is punctual, even with the most exhausting morning training, but now that he's thinking of it, Minamoto has always been there earlier than him. By the time he enters classroom, she is already stretched out on the surface of her desk, sleeping.

He can feel the tension leave his shoulders when the door slides open and a familiar face framed by familiar black hair enters the room.

It is quickly replaced by a frown on his face when he notices the state she's in. Why is she wearing her P.E. jersey and pants instead of the school uniform?

All eyes are on her as she makes her way over to her desk. When the whispers start he makes sure to send his classmates a good, stern glare to shut them up and return attention to the class at hand. Their English teacher thanks him with a relieved nod.

Sanada is feeling better now. With his routine back on track he can finally concentrate and keep notes. He sneaks a look at his childhood friend, expecting her to have settled back into her trademark sleep. That's good. Slightly disappointing but—

She hasn't. With her shoulders sagged she's only looking at her hands. Hands that can take up a sword and handle even the most skillful opponent.

With the rim of her eyes red, those hands just look small and helpless.

And suddenly he feels very guilty for thinking the way he did. He'll ask her himself later. She's more than just a routine, whether he likes it or not. Now might be the time to act more like friends.


	10. Still The Same Friends

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

He has promised himself to ask Minamoto about what has happened to her. He, Sanada Genichirou, vice-captain of the famous Rikkaidai Tennis Club, also known as The Emperor. The picture of strength and discipline, that's what he is.

He, Sanada Genichirou, doesn't quite know how to go about his plan.

Minamoto sits but two feet away from him and she's not even sleeping. She has her head in her hands and looks straight forward, bangs obscuring most of her face as well as his view of it. He has decided to gauge his approach on the expression she wore—is she sad or mad? Maybe sleepy after all—but she doesn't make it easy for him.

For the first time in a long while he doesn't listen to the teacher and simply stares at her black hair. Then he frowns. What is he doing? He's not a kid. He should just be upfront about it and confront her about the fact that she has been...

Has been...

It's not that he's a bad friend. It's just that he's never been in a situation quite like this. It's not like Seiichi or Renji ever cried. Seiichi's speciality is making others cry but that's never bothered Sanada—he simply thought it a sign of weakness to shed tears over trivial matters. It's not like those people really thought they stood a chance against the Child of God. If so, they deserve to cry about their own shamelessness.

The bell rings and he startles. Over already...? All he's done is bide time and make up excuses!

When he catches movement from the table next to him, he jumps from his seat. "Minamoto—"

"Hey, Sanada," she says like she hasn't heard him, "tell your grandfather I won't be playing shōgi with him tonight."

He doesn't even blink when his mouth opens on its own. "Tell him yourself. You promised him, so be responsible for your actions."

It's only when the words are out he realizes what he's actually said. He wants to punch something. It would be nothing on any other day but just when she's not her usual self and he's decided to make an effort...!

Minamoto blinks and for the first time their eyes actually meet. Hers are still bloodshot but they're also the same dark he's familiar with. She _is_ still the same old Minamoto, just as he is still the same. That's why when she smiles all of a sudden, dark eyes warm and soft, he can actually overlook her impudent response for once. "You sure know how to live up to your name, Gen-chan-rôshi."

She touches his arm. "Thanks."

He shrugs his shoulders. "So long as you never call me by that name again." She hums and it's not the good type. Sanada frowns. "Minamoto," he warns.


	11. Surprise Visit

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

It's been a few days since Minamoto has had her mysterious visit to the principal and Sanada is still wondering why exactly she's gone there. It seems time and patience, as always, has the answer in store for him.

"I'm home," Sanada says upon entering the house.

"Welcome back!" calls a voice that is familiar in an entirely wrong way.

Sanada stares at the girl standing in the door frame. All he wants is a bath and a warm meal. Why does he get the sudden feeling that both are a faraway thing now? "I thought you wouldn't be playing shōgi anytime soon." Apart from staying overtime inside the dōjo Minamoto usually only stayed longer for shōgi matches with his grandfather.

"I thought so, too," she chirps in response and the sound makes a shudder run down his back. Minamoto acting in a sweet, cheery fashion is asking for trouble. "But apparently your old man wants to play shōgi so bad, he invited me to sleep over at your place for a few days."

It takes a moment for the words to fully sink in.

"_What?!_"

"Gen-chan, behave yourself." Mom peeks over Minamoto's shoulder and frowns. "Minamoto-chan is our guest now."

"How can a girl sleep at her male classmate's home? That's indecent!"

"Eh, I slept over tons of times when we were children."

"That was then!"

She cocks her head to the side. "You have unused guest rooms. If you still wake at the same ungodly hour Yuki-chi tells me you do, then you won't even notice me."

Why does she know his home better than she should have? Sanada turns for help to the one person he's certain _not_ to find it: his mother.

She's always had a soft spot for Minamoto. "Genichirou," she says softly, "Please." The urgency in her voice is not lost to him. With a glare (_I want answers later_) he gives in... this time. There is something off about the whole situation after all.

Minamoto clasps her hands together excitedly. "I can play pranks on your alarm clocks again!"

He already regrets ever giving in.


	12. The Morning After

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

Sanada is nervous. He knows that the moment he wakes _before_ his alarm clock. He doesn't have any difficulties waking but the clock is there for him to time his sleep—just enough rest to make it through the day effortlessly. It's taken months to perfect his sleeping pattern.

"You're too paranoid," a voice says and he startles, instinctively pulling the covers higher.

"Minamo—"

All he sees is a foot pass his door. "Imma wash first." Sanada sighs. At least they've both managed to avoid humiliation for the time being—"Oh, you still have that cute ducky me and Yuki-chi got you?" Minamoto sticks her head into his room with a wide grin and a frilly purple rubber duck.

"_MINAMOTO!_"

Properly washed and clad the two of them enter the kitchen for breakfast. To be precise: he drags her by the collar because she can't stop looking at his family's framed pictures, saying how tall he's gotten. "You see me everyday at school. You should know this already," he grumbles as he lets her go.

She doesn't even bother to smother the wrinkles in her uniform. "I only ever see you sitting in class. Or sitting and eating. Or sitting and observing your tennis team. Do you like sitting?"

And just when he had _sat down_. Mother tries to hide her amusement but fails pathetically. It takes all his will not to stand up and slam the chair against the table. "I should ask you. How would you know what I'm doing when you're constantly sleeping?"

Minamoto shrugs and sits down opposite him. "I have the third eye. Sanada-san, this looks _amazing_," she says, eyes practically devouring the food on the table. Sanada only momentarily startles at the formal mention of his name. He knows she never calls him that way.

His mother pats the girl on her head. "Eat as much as you like. You look too thin these days."

"It's the current trend with girls to be thin."

Sanada snorts. "Like you care."

Minamoto shoots him an incredulous look. "I am a girl at heart even if I can wipe the floor with you in kendo."

Any other would cower under his harsh gaze. That much he'd give her. "Care to prove that careless statement?"

"Your blood sugar, Gen-chan. It's rising."

"Because of you!"

"I never denied that." Rice crumbs stick to her smiling lips. He trembles, knowing _exactly_ that she does it on purpose because even she can't be _that_ lazy.

Or can she?


	13. The Indigo Miscalculation

**I don't own _Prince of Tennis_.**

* * *

With the abruptness of her staying over at his home (he still hasn't gotten around to ask his Mother what this was all about in the first place), Sanada has forgotten about one important thing.

"Mornin', Yuki-chi."

"Masa-chan," Seiichi looks only mildly surprised, "good morning to you too."

Yes, Sanada completely forgot about the way to school. Specifically the part where Seiichi usually joins him. All he has to do is take a deep breath and pray that his friend won't say a single—

"So you finally settled down, Genichirou. I am proud of you." Seiichi smiles, beams really, in his special conspiratory way.

Where is his cap when he needs it? "That's not the case. We just happened to pass each other on the way to school."

"Really." Seiichi falls in step with them.

And then the worst comes to happen: they join forces. As they always do. Minamoto nudges the indigo-haired boy in his side. "He's just shy. Rebellious stage and all that."

Minamoto, you're not helping. You never do.

"I never noticed the surge of hormones but I guess he is just a boy in his teens."

"Indeed."

He closes his eyes for a brief moment to calm himself. Already his routine is crumbling. For all their differences in discipline and grades, appearance and height, in the worst areas, these two are exactly the same. He sometimes forgets how they used to play together. And what came of it. Some of their meetups he has justified reason to erase from his mind forever.

"Ah." Minamoto suddenly stops in the middle of the road.

He knows that look. "Don't tell me you actually managed to forgot something again." Sanada can feel it now. It's faint, just at the back of his forehead, but it's there. A _thing_ he hasn't had in a long time.

"My P.E. clothes," she deadpans.

A headache.

"Then go get it," he grinds out, massaging his temples with one hand.

"You're not coming with me?"

What a ridiculous thought. "I have club activities, unlike you."

"True. Oh well." She spins around and walks back the way they came without a care—nor hurry—in the world. Infallibly irresponsible. "See ya in class. Lunch break, Yuki-chi?"

Oh no. Not another lunch break. He makes sure Seiichi gets the warning glare but his Captain just nods and waves at the retreating girl's back, completely ignoring his objection. "She's a nice girl."

"No, she's not," Sanada promptly answers. He won't be toyed with. This is only a temporary solution and if anyone asks, they just met by chance—

Seiichi crosses his arms behind his back. "So, she stayed over at your place?"

For a moment even Sanada is struck speechless. "How do you...?" The Child of God, truly...?

"She doesn't live in this direction." He smiles again and Sanada knows he will never live this down. "So, you finally gave in to your urges, my son?"

"Spare me the mockery at least on Monday mornings."

* * *

**A/N:**

**I'm slowly starting to ease back into writing and this seems like an easier piece to continue with again. Thank you all for the support so far! I've read through the reviews again and they totally motivated me to finally continue where we left off.  
**


End file.
